Broken Wings
by Seroci
Summary: Oliver Wood: Quidditch captain, strong, fearless Keeper. But after a disturbing accident, will he ever fly again? Is the bird grounded forever?
1. Fallen

A/N: This idea has been floating around in my mind for some time, and after seeing the movie and falling for Wood (I'm pathetic, I know ^_^0), this _had_ to come out. Narrated by one of Wood's fellow team members, I think it's obvious. ^_~ Just one warning: No slash intended. I'm not a slash hater, but for this story....*shrug*....no slash. Friendship between guys, that's it. This is my first HP fic, and this is the first time I've started writing in a new category with an actual story, not a songfic. *applauds herself* I'm proud. *cheesy grin* Read now. 

This takes place in Harry's third year. 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Rowling's. Sue me? Eh, no. I need my money for Christmas presen 

**~Broken Wings~**

  
  
  
  
  


_I can't believe you. Now, now! It's bad enough it's for always, but did you have to decide now?_

_I looked up to you. I really did. I guess in some ways, I still do._

_But why are you being so stupid? So blind?_

_I can't believe you._

I saw him. He was across the courtyard, books tucked under his arms, head bowed. Snow swirled around him. He pulled his robes closer. 

_I can't believe you._

I was looking at him, watching him, with a gut feeling that was pretty close to hate. 

But no. You can't hate Oliver Wood. He's that guy that holds the eye of every girl, the envy of every guy, the praise of every soul. 

_Then why am I hating you?_

A sixth year walked up to him, stopped him. I halted in my tracks when I saw him lift his head and look at her with a bloodshot eye. 

The other eye was covered with a cast. 

" You were really great last week-" the sixth year began. 

I saw him tense. He looked away, and his eye met mine. 

_I can't believe you._

He swallowed, bowed his head, walked away. 

" Harry?" 

A strong hand landed on my shoulder. 

" Harry? We're going to be late for Potions." 

I nodded, knew I should follow my friend, but somehow kept watching Oliver Wood. 

" Maybe you don't care about detention, but I do." 

_I can't believe you. You're running away from us when we need you most!_

" Harry?" 

A bitter hand swept across my face in a slap. I blinked and glared. 

" What was that for?!" 

" Oh, good, you are awake." Ron shook his head. " Come on, Snape's gonna kill us for being almost late." 

I nodded, looked back to where Oliver had disappeared. 

_I thought we mattered to you._

" Harry?" 

I nodded again. " I'm coming." 

His eyes searched my face. I avoided eye contact. 

" You've been acting really weird....." 

I laughed. " _I've_ been acting weird?" 

" Well, yeah." He paused. " This wouldn't be about Wood, would it?" 

" Maybe." 

Ron sighed. " You'll get along without him." He cocked his head. " I'm actually wondering if he'll get along without you guys." 

" What do you mean?" 

He shifted his books. " Think about it. Quidditch is his life, right?" 

I nodded. 

" How much do you think it hurts him to drop out?" 

" He _chose_ to drop out!" I snapped. 

" Maybe, but under certain circumstances-" 

I stopped walking. " I don't care _why_ he dropped out! The fact that he's suddenly chicken on us-" 

" He didn't chicken on you, he was hurt!" 

I inhaled deeply and looked away from my best friend. 

" Have you even talked to him?" 

I shook my head. 

" I know you're both guys, heck I'm a guy too, and I understand you don't want to talk, but it's what's going to help." 

" You never talk," I pointed out. 

" Well, yeah.....I'm not the best role model..." He glanced up. " Oh poppycock, we're going to hear it from Snape." 

I didn't care what Snape could throw at me. 

_I can't believe you_.   


" Mr. Potter." 

I looked up from my blank scroll. Snape strolled past me, black eyes studying me. 

" I notice you're not taking notes." 

I glanced at the paper in front of me. " Sorry, sir." 

" Obviously." He snorted at me and continued down the aisle. 

_Talk to Wood. Yeah. Right._

I shook my head, dipped my quill in the ink bottle. I was going to pay attention, today. Forget about Oliver, forget about Ron. I was going to concentrate. 

_We've depended on you. You hold us together, you made us win. Your heart, your love for the game._

_How could you._

" Mr. Potter!" 

I sat straight up. A flow of black liquid poured over the edge of my desk. 

Snape scowled. " Mr. Potter, can you imagine how much it costs me for every bottle of ink?" 

I nodded gravely. 

" Do you think I would be very angry with you if you were to waste my money?" 

" Yes sir." 

" Ten points from Gryffindor......go to Dumbeldor's office and get yourself cleaned up. And while your at it, bring back another bottle of ink." His eyes bore into me as he lifted his wand and summoned a hall pass. He handed it to me with rough hands. 

I rose and slipped past him. Out in the hall, I clenched my fists. 

" No dawdling, Potter! Ten minutes!" 

I snarled at Snape's voice. 

_You're responsible for this. For everything!_

I rounded a corner, wiping my black hand on my robes. 

" Potter." 

That voice. I froze. Didn't dare look up. 

" What?" 

There was a long silence before he asked, " What happened?" 

" Ink," I answered. 

_" Talk to him."_

Ron's words came back to me. 

" Why....why are you out of class?" I asked, finally looking up at him. I expected to see his blue eyes, Oliver always looked directly at the person he was speaking to, but I found he wasn't looking at me. 

" R-running an errand," he muttered. He fidgeted. 

" For who?" I was prying, I knew it was wrong, I knew I should stop. I didn't know why I kept going. 

" Madame Hooch." 

He turned his good eye away from me. I was looking at a white cast of gauze pads, parts stained red. All around his eye was black and purple, dried cuts crawled up his forehead and temples. His jaw was unstable, and if I hadn't known what happened, I would've thought he was going to cry. He was shivering, though it was warm in the castle. 

" When......" I paused. " When will it.....you know..." 

" Heal?" he finished. He shrugged. " I don't know." 

" Are you coming back?" 

Maybe he was. Maybe his leave was temporary. 

The muscles in his face tensed. " You heard what I said." 

" What did you say?" 

His breathing quickened. " You're not making this any easier, Potter." 

" I want to hear you say it." 

" Why?" 

I swallowed. " To know it's the truth, or if you're just lying again." 

" I would never lie..." 

" Then what's this charade?" 

He turned his eye on me. " I'll never fly again, Potter, and that's the god damned truth." 

It should have come out as a yell. It came out as a whisper. And that whisper dug deeper into me than any yell would.   
  


" You have to be patient with Wood," Angelina Johnson told me softly. Her fingers expertly ran a polishing cloth over her broom. " What happened to him...it doesn't happen often." 

" He's still chicken," I muttered. 

" Would you be?" 

Her question made me stop working on my broom. " What?" 

" Would you be willing to climb onto a broom again and fly at altitudes usually reserved for birds? To be attacked again and again by balls of all sizes and players of all sizes?" She reached out and touched my shoulder. " He will come back, there is no way to ground Oliver Wood. Not your magic, not mine, not You-Know-Who's, not Dumbledor's. No magic could keep him from flying again." 

I don't know why, but I felt I was going to cry. " But he sounded so certain." 

" Yeah......and he will, for as long as he hurts. He was lucky to survive that attack, Harry." There was almost a quiver in her voice. 

_You love him.___

_And I hate him.___

" I wish he would.....," I threw my polishing rag on the ground, ".......wake up!" 

Angelina was silent a few moments. " He'll never see out of that eye again. It can't be cured, not by magic." 

I shook my head, whispered, " Not by Muggles either." 

" He may fly again, but I doubt he'll ever play the game again." 

The Common Room door opened. Both Angelina and I looked to see who entered. 

It was Oliver. 

" Hello, Oliver." Angelina greeted him with a warm smile. " Feeling better?" 

He nodded politely. 

" Do you know when....?" 

He shook his head and cleared his throat. " Hooch has found you a new...." He paused long enough to shake. "...a new captain." 

_You're not coming back.___

_You weren't lying.___

_You're not coming back.___

My mouth went dry with realization. I tried swallowing, found that it hurt. 

Everything hurt today. 

" Her name is Jasmine O'Brien. She was recommended by a school in Italy.....she'll be your Keeper." Oliver paused again, closed his eye, swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something more, then decided against it and stepped aside to reveal the new captain. 

" Jasmine?" Angelina asked. 

The girl behind Oliver nodded and pushed a strand of her inky black hair behind her ear. 

Angelina stuck out her hand. " I'm Angelina Johnson, one of the Chasers." 

Jasmine smiled and took Angelina's hand. " There's another girl on the team?" 

" This.." Oliver coughed and motioned to me. " This is Harry Potter, your Seeker." 

Jasmine's eyes widened. " Harry Potter?" My name rolled off her tongue perfectly, accent made it fluent. She put out her hand to take my own. " I've heard so much about you. It's an honor to be your captain." 

" The honor's mine," I muttered. I withdrew my hand and glared at Wood. 

" I think the rest of the team in asleep," Oliver told Jasmine, averting his eyes to avoid mine. " Angelina can introduce them to you tomorrow." 

" Oh? Can't you introduce us?" Jasmine asked. 

Oliver shook his head. " N.....no." 

There was an awkward silence. 

" Well, Jasmine," Angelina started, " the girls' dorms are up this way....so, just follow me." 

Jasmine nodded at her. " Yes, thank you very much." She turned to me. " It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I can't wait to tell my grandmother about all this!" 

" Good night," I told her. 

" Good night." She blushed and hurried up after Angelina, waving. 

She left Oliver and me alone. 

_I can't believe you're not coming back.___

_I can't believe you're abandoning us.___

_I can't believe you.___

" I think she'll make a good captain," Oliver said softly. 

" Yeah," I agreed. I agreed with no heart. 

Oliver sighed. " Maybe she can keep the Slytherins in line." 

" You did." 

He laughed nervously. " No, not at all." 

_Talk to Wood.___

_I can't believe you're talking me into this, Ron.___

_You're not even here.___

" Wood..." I started. 

" No, Potter. I'm not." He sat down in a red velvet arm chair. " I can't." 

I started to clean up the small mess I had made polishing my broom. I kept trying to forget Oliver's presence. 

" Are you upset with me, Harry?" 

" Not at all," I snapped. Clumsy fingers grabbed my polish container, dropped it. " Crap." 

I heard Oliver rise and walk across the room. He bent with me to clean the mess. 

" Can't you understand? I can't go back, not like this." Defeat was evident in his voice. It was all I heard. Defeat. 

I grabbed my rag and ran it over the red carpet. 

" I can't go back blind." 

" You still have one good eye." 

He shook his head. " Harry, you don't get it. I was blind when I had both eyes. Blind to the point that I didn't see him coming!" His fist hit the carpet, his breathing quickened. " I wasn't blind when he hit me. Oh no, let me tell you, I saw my death in his eyes." He stopped rubbing the carpet free of the polishing gel. I followed suit, watching him. 

" I was afraid I was going to die. Fifty feet in air never felt longer." He tried to laugh, failed. " I've fallen from my broom before, more times than I can count, but I've never been forced off it. I've never been attacked like that." He closed his eye. " I've never been scared in my entire life.......not until then." 

A single tear traced down his right cheek, falling from his one sparkling blue eye, and he screamed. 

" Oliver?!" 

He put one hand over his bandaged eye, dropped closer to the ground. His scream ceased, but only because his teeth were holding it in. 

I crawled closer to him, put my hand on his back. " Oliver? Are you all right?" 

He nodded, inhaled deeply, shakily. " I'm fine," he muttered breathlessly. He rose to his knees, reached out his hand for something to grab on. I offered my arm, and he took it in one of his strong hands. With my help, he pulled himself to a chair, fell into it. " Ice?" he panted. 

" What?" 

" Ice. Get ice." Another tear fell down his cheek and he tensed again. " Now." His voice was soft, a whisper of pain. 

I nodded quickly, jumped up. There was an ice box in the Common Room. Fred and George were always storing odds of this and that in it. 

I opened the box, dipped my hand into the cold, grabbed a handful of ice. My hand was numb within seconds. 

Oliver was removing his bandage when I returned to him. His good eye was shut tight, teeth gritted tightly. 

" Oliver, I've got ice." 

He removed the gauze pad, took the ice from me, and pressed it to his damaged eye. He began to relax once the cold touched his skin. 

" What happened?" I asked softly. I took a seat next to him. 

" The tear...." he whispered. " It burned." 

I felt I had to say something. 

I had nothing to say. 

" What's happening to me, Harry?" he asked quietly. 

I shook my head. " I don't know." 

" Why can't I go back? Why can't I fly again?" He removed the ice from his eye. Water from the melting cube ran down his face. The injured eye twitched, opened slowly. He turned his head to look at me. Both eyes were facing me, I looked into both eyes, but only one of his saw me. His damaged one was watching me, as if it were normal, but it was hazy. Clouds covered the blue sea in his eye, he couldn't see out of it. 

I reached out a hand and took his free one. " I'm sorry." 

Looking at him, watching the strong and fearless Quidditch captain break down in front of me....it made me think. What I had seen was Marcus Flint hurtling towards the Gryfiindor Keeper. He shoved him, pushed him from the broom. And Wood fell, hit the ground, lay still. More had happened, I knew he had hit one of the posts he was guarding head on, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. 

When he stayed in the hospital wing, it was only for broken bones and stitches. He would come out strong and fearless again and jump right back on the broom and have his revenge.When he did show up, limping, bandaged, head bowed.....when he told me he would never fly again......I never understood why. So you take a hit. Recover and get back on your feet. 

I never knew it hurt him inside. 

He was crying again. The ice was put back on his eye, he bowed his head. His shoulders shook with each breath, he was shivering. 

" Oliver....." I whispered. I rose and sat right next to him, put my arm across his shoulders. " I'm real sorry." 

" I have wings, Potter," he whispered. " I want to use them." 

" You will, someday." 

He looked up at me. 

" I promise you will fly again."   
  


A/N: A cliffhanger ending, I know. I intend to continue it, so don't worry. Expect more Wood fics from me. ^_^ 


	2. The Bird That Couldn't Fly

A/N: The next chapter for _Broken Wings_. I might change the title name, who knows. *shrug* A note to all you Wood fans out there, **he is _MINE_!!!** Leave him to me and I might let you hug him. _No_ tasting, though! *smug grin* Ahh, a girl can dream. Okie. Read now.   


**~Broken Wings~**   
**_*The Bird That Couldn't Fly*_**   
**__**

  


" Potter." 

I smiled ruefully. " Wood." 

His face shone in the afternoon light. I had only been on the field for a few minutes and already I was burning. He had been out all day. 

He sighed and looked around him. " The place hasn't changed much, has it?" 

" Not really." I rolled my sleeves up to maybe cool me down, but I had a feeling it wouldn't help. " Why are you here?" 

" Ah, you'll see." He winked with his good eye. The heartwrenching bandage I last saw him with was gone, and scars circled his eye, almost like flames around a sun. He never would have passed for blind in one eye. 

I poked him in the ribs. " Come on now, get off your broom and tell me." I regreted the words as soon as I said them. 

His face fell and he looked slowly to a group of kids, every class of Gryffindor up to the fifth years, all picking their brooms. Madame Hooch was showing the first years how to summon and mount a broom. 

" Oliver....I'm sorry..." 

He shook his head. " Naw, it's okay." He took in a long breath. " I'm....." He winced. " I'm used to it." 

" How did you..." I stopped myself before finishing the question. I was going to ask him how he had made it two years without flying. 

" What?" 

" How.....how's your new job?" I asked sheepishly. 

He smiled. " It hurts, but I like it." 

_Hurts?___

" What do you mean?" 

" You'll see." 

I shook my head. " When did you get good at keeping secrets?" 

He shrugged. " Two years on the ground changed me." 

Madame Hooch whistled shrilly. Silence overtook the field. 

Oliver threw me a quick salute. " Ciao, Potter." 

He was jogging towards the flight instructor before I could answer. 

I watched him run. For as long as I'd known him he'd been a bird. He was still a bird in many ways, like the way he ran so gracefully, almost as if he was in the air. Maybe he was more cat-like on the ground, fluent in his movements and unfaltering, but in almost every way, he was a bird. Even his blue eyes reminded me of a falcon. 

" It's a new year," Madame Hooch was saying when I tuned in to her. " A new year brings new beginnings, and new opportunities, as well as new surprises. A surprise for all of you now, and hopefully a new turn in teaching methods, is one almost all of us have known at some point. Graduated two years ago, and now back as the first student-teacher in Hogwarts history, Oliver Wood." 

Wood bowed before our clapping hands. I stared at him, eyes wide. 

_The old bird.___

Madame Hooch smiled at Oliver. " Perhaps you'd like to tell the first and second years about yourself." 

" Much obliged," he answered, and cleared his throat. " My name is Oliver Wood. I was Gryffindor's Quidditch team captain before Jasmine O'Brien. I started playing Quidditch when I was five in a local Youth Quidditch League in Scotland." He clasped his hands in front of him like a proffessor. " My family moved to London just before my first year here at Hogwarts." He gestured towards Madame Hooch with a smile. " Madame Hooch was my flight instructor, and she moved me to a second year class because of my flying skills. When I was in my second year, I started playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Chaser, but I found later in the season that I was attatched to the position of Keeper. I was switched to Keeper in my third year, and I was made team captain in my fourth. I was captain for three years, until....." He stopped suddenly, looking each of us over. I nodded to him when his eyes fell on me. " Until an accident, which....." He swallowed." .....has kept me from flying since. I found a new captain, O'Brien, who had just moved to England from Italy.....and I dropped out of Quidditch." He looked down. " Though the game nearly killed me and I'm grounded, I couldn't keep away, and proposed the idea of a student-teacher to Proffessor Dumbledor. So.....I help with flying lessons and I supervise the Gryffindor team. I am open to anyone who needs Quidditch or flying tips." 

We all clapped politely as he stepped back. Madame Hooch was smiling. 

" Wood was one of the best captains we've had, as well as one fine Keeper." She exhaled. " Now if you'll mount your brooms, Wood will hand out a list of warm-ups I expect you to complete each day when you get out here. Practice them, and Wood and I will be available if you need help." She paused, glancing at the first years. Then she nodded to Oliver. " Wood, I'll work with the first years. Just walk around and help those having trouble." She started to lead the first years away before turning and holding up her hands. " Oh, class, before I forget, Wood will not be able to demonstrate the warm-up techniques in the air, but I'm sure he'd be glad to mounted on the ground?" She raised an eyebrow in Oliver's direction. 

He shrugged. " Sure, why not?" 

" Yes, Wood will demonstrage what you need to know mounted but on the ground. Unless, of course..." 

" No," he cut her off. " No." 

The bird who could not fly. 

No, the bird who didn't dare to fly. 

Madame Hooch led the first years to an open area of the field and began showing them proper techniques to use while on broomstick. 

" Reckon he'll stay on the ground long?" Ron asked me as he mounted his broom. 

I shrugged. " He might. Angelina told me once that no magic could ground him." 

" Yeah? Coming back to teach flying and Quidditch is a start, don't you think?" Ron's broom started to rise. " Hey! No! Down!" 

I chuckled as the broom tilted upward and Ron fell off. 

" That wasn't funny!" he spat from his position on the ground. He rose, grumbling, and took the broom firmly in his hands. " Work with me now, and be good!" 

" Yes, Ron. Yelling at it will help." I smiled and mounted my own broom. Ron scowled at me as I kicked off. 

" Potter!" 

I looked down. Oliver was looking up at me, a stack of white sheets in his hand. 

" You troublemaker," he scolded with a grin, " you need a warm-up list." 

I nodded. " Yes, Proffessor Wood." 

His eyes widened. " Proffessor Wood?" One of his eyebrows raised. The scarred one. 

" Would you rather be called Ollie?" Ron asked. He attempted to mount his broom again. It bucked him off and he landed on his rear. " Ow!" 

Oliver looked over at him, sighed. " Weasely, right? Fred and George's baby brother?" 

Ron scowled and nodded. 

" You have to demand respect of a disobedient broom," Oliver told him, kneeling next to him. He took Ron's broom in a hand. 

" You talk as if they're alive," Ron muttered, sitting up. 

" In some sense, they are. Now, once you grab the broom, you have to command respect with a strong grip. See?" He held the broom out for Ron to see. The broom was still. " Now you take it." He handed the broom to Ron. 

The broom wiggled a bit. 

" Tighten your grip," Oliver ordered. 

The broom ceased to move. 

" Now mount it, and as long as your grip is tight, you should be all right." Oliver stood and offered his hand to Ron. He helped my best friend up and handed him a white sheet. " If you need anymore help, don't be afraid to ask." 

I landed next to the student-teacher and took a sheet from him. " I see what you mean about this job hurting you," I told him. 

He nodded, looked to the sky. " It's not bad. At least I'm back on the field again." 

" Think this is your first step to flying again?" 

He was silent. 

" Sir?" 

" Can the sir crap, Potter," he told me. " I don't know what this is. Just a salvation for me, I guess." 

" Mr. Wood, sir?" 

A blonde third year girl tapped Oliver on the shoulder. 

" I need help, sir." She held her broom close. 

" Yes." Oliver handed a warm-up list to her. " Have you gotten one of these?" 

The third year shook her head. " No, sir." 

Oliver smiled. " Don't call me sir, please." 

She nodded. 

" Okay," Oliver muttered through a long exhale, " what's wrong?" 

The third year pointed to a small group of girls, all in the air and spiraling. " My friends can all do the loop and they're laughing at me 'cause I can't. Can you show me how?" 

I saw Oliver stiffen. " I.....I don't think I could......" He looked to me for help. 

" I could show you," I stepped in, nodding at Wood. 

Oliver breathed a quiet, " Thank you," I could barely hear. He patted my shoulder and walked away. 

I watched him before turning to the third year and talking her through the steps of the spiral. I showed her soon after, though I messed the loop up my first try, because I was watching Wood. His eyes were on me, almost in envy. 

_Can't blame him._

I sighed, spiraled again, landed, and closed my wings for Oliver Wood.   
  


" I hear Wood's teading flyig leddons with Hooch," Hermione said, a tissue pressed tightly to her nose. 

Ron and I both nodded. 

" Id he a good teader?" She sneezed. 

" Bless you." Ron handed her another tissue. 

She took it from him gratefully. " Thag you." 

" Yeah, he's good." I had my eyes on the chess board in front of me. " I think it's his first step back into flying." 

Ron pointed at me and cried, " That was my theory! You can't take my theory and not give me credit!" 

" Fine, _Ron_ and I think it's his first step back into flying, " I corrected. " Happy?" 

" Very." Ron scratched his head, then asked, " Are you gonna move? It's been ten minutes." 

I glanced at the board again. " It's a tricky set-up..." 

" No," he accused. " You're just delaying losing." He leaned towards Hermoine and pointed at me, whispering very loudly, " He's just delaying losing." He pressed his finger to his lips to tell her to not say a thing, as though it was a secret. 

" Funny, Ron. You're a riot." I made my decision. " Knight to B4." 

Ron leaned close to Hermoine again, and whispered loudly, " He fell into my trap!" 

_Trap?___

I looked the board over, groaned when I saw my knight was in direct line to Ron's bishop. 

" Ron," I moaned. " Would I sacrifice our friendship if I slapped you?" 

" Maybe not our _friendship_, but a few Christmas presents at least." He smirked at me. " Bishop to B4." 

His bishop hobbled over to my knight, took it in its stubby arms, and threw it to the ground. The knight failed to break, so the bishop crawled on top of it and started jumping. After the fifth jump the knight broke to three pieces, and the bishop settled on the square, very smug. 

" My bishop knows how to take a square." Ron eased back in his chair. " Your move." 

I shook my head. " Naw, I'm turning in." 

" A'ready?" Hermoine glanced at the clock. " It'd ondy ten!" She sneezed again. 

Ron handed her another tissue. " You should go to bed soon. I'm gonna catch your cold if you stay down here." 

" You dnow, you could a'ways go up to bed. You dun have to chase me up." She coughed. " Bud your right. I should sdeep. Good nighd, bode of you." 

" 'Night, 'Moine." I waved her up the stairs. 

Ron stood. " Don't let the bed bugs, or spiders, or worms, or anything like that bite, you hear?" 

She laughed and sneezed again. " You're goig to be da death of me, Rod." 

" I try." Ron bowed as Hermoine disappeared into the girls' dorms. 

I sighed. " Yeah, I've got a few letters to write." 

" A few?" Ron cocked his head at me. " A few?" 

" Sirius and Wood." 

Ron counted out the two people on his fingers. " Uh, Harry, sorry to bust your bubble, but that's only two people. Not a few." 

I threw my arms up. " Sue me." 

" Can I?" His face brightened. 

" Sure. If you learn how." I headed up the stairs. 

" Yeah, see how they like us?" I heard him say, probably to his chess pieces. " They leave us alone. Oh well. Queen to H5, and checkmate."   
  


_Oliver,_   
_ I don't know where you're sleeping, probably with the faculty. Hedwig'll find you. If you ever want to come up to the Common Room, the password is butternut. You're still a Gryffindor, I guess, so there's no reason you shouldn't be allowed in here._   
_ You can't stay grounded forever, you know. We all know you're going to fly again. You're a bird, Oliver. Someone told me no magic could keep you grounded. Someone who I know loves you very much. I don't think I'm obligated to say who._   
_ Meet me out on the field tomorrow, just have breakfast. I'll have an hour before my first class, and it'll be before the heat picks up in the afternoon. It's actually quite warm for September, don't you think?_   
_ It's late, and Hedwig's still got to find you before you fall asleep._   
_ Sincerely,_   
_ Harry_   
__ __

I rolled the parchment up and tied it with a small piece of twine. Hedwig perked up when I removed her from her cage. 

" Oliver Wood, girl." I stroked her feathers. She nibbled my fingers. " I'll have another letter when you return, if you're up to a long flight." She screeched encouragingly and I smiled. " This one goes to Oliver Wood." I tied the letter to her talon. 

Another blank scroll waited for me beneath the first. 

_Sirius,_   
_ How do you make a fallen bird fly again?_   
_ Sincerely,_   
_ Harry___

I rolled this up, too, tied it, and set it on my trunk for Hedwig. I watched her disappear out the open window. 

Her white faded quickly in the inky blackness.   
  


The field grass was still wet with dew, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. I could still see some stars in the lightening sky, and I wished upon each one that Wood took me up on my request. 

" What's the deal, Potter?" 

I sighed. 

_Finally!___

I turned to face him, Oliver Wood. He strode over to me, eyes all the while watching above him, at the crows flying through the hoops. 

" I can't believe you'll never fly again, Oliver, I just can't believe it," I told him. 

His expression became exasperated. " I said I'll never fly again-" 

" You said that when it hurt," I interupted. 

" It still hurts." 

" Maybe. But not like before." 

He exhaled slowly. " Harry, I thought I made it clear to you that my wings are closed. Forever." 

" Forever isn't that long," I said, grabbing my broom. I took his sleeve in my free hand. " We have an hour, Wood." 

He pulled away from me sharply. " No. I can't fly." 

I faced him. " You told me once that giving up was a waste of time, only for the weak ones that couldn't go on. You're one of the strongest people I know, so why in the hell are you giving up?" 

" I don't need to talk about this. It's done and over for me." He lowered his eyes. " There's a time when each legend has to fold his wings. It's my time." 

" But you're not a legend yet!" I cried. " You were on the way to being one, on your way to the top of the teams!" 

" Legends die, okay, Potter?" He turned away sharply, began to walk away. " Legends die." 

I mounted my broom angrily, launched, and flew in front of him. " Heroes die, maybe, hearts die, but I know your love for the game hasn't died and never will." 

He walked right past me. 

" You once hid in the showers to hide your failure!" I yelled after him. " You can't hide behind a mask of scars!" 

He didn't stop. 

" You're lying! A damned liar!" 

He walked out of the stadium, ignoring me. 

" A bird never closes his wings forever, Wood!" 

I had tears running down my cheeks, and I didn't know why. I kicked off from the ground furiously, flew to the top of the stadium. Peering over the flags, I watched a small figure storm up the hill to the castle. He stopped the the bottom of the castle stairs, took one hesitant step up, and collapsed. He let himself back on the ground, off the stone steps, head buried in his arms.   
  


A/N: What I had intended as a short story is turning out to be a chapter fic. ^_^ Good. I've got something to occupy me. I usually don't write chapters this close together, time wise, because of life and school, but miracles can happen, right? 


	3. Look At The Clouds

A/N: Change of POV, it's from Wood's eyes. Get the inside scoop on the fallen bird. This should be good.   
  
  


**~Broken Wings~**   
***Look At The Clouds***

  
  
  
  


_He doesn't understand._

I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked up at a Gryffindor fourth year practicing his warm-ups. The boy had potential. 

I used to be able to fly like that. 

_I can't go back, not half blind._

" Lander!" I shouted at the boy above me. A pudgy face looked down at me. I motioned for him to come down. 

" What is it, sir?" he asked breathlessly, landing his broom. 

" Nice job," I told him. 

He shifted his grip on his broom. " Is that all, sir?" 

" Yeah, I guess so." I looked over at Madame Hooch. " I'll tell the instructor five points to Gryffindor." 

" What for, sir?" 

I sighed. All the 'sirs' I was receiving were beginning to annoy me. " Top of the knotch flying." My heart stopped still. I knew there was one boy out in the sky who flew better Lander, but I couldn't look at him. 

I couldn't look into eyes I knew were right. 

I patted Lander's shoulder. " Skip your warm-ups, today. Just fly, learn the broom. And whatever you do, never let the feeling go." 

He gave me an odd look. I shrugged it off and let him fly. 

I wanted so much to be up there with them, instead of grounded like I was. Even Madame Hooch was on a broom. I should have been up there. 

_I can't fly. Not anymore.___

_Never again.___

I exhaled slowly. It was time I had come to accept that. For two years I had been fighting the fact that I could never fly. 

No. 

I had been fighting the fact that I was too afraid to fly. Too afraid to mount another broom and take off into the heavens..... 

.....only to fall again. 

_What's the point in wishing?___

_Just give it up.___

My eyes wandered the skies above me. They fell on one boy. He had his back to me, so I could not see his eyes. 

I didn't want to see his eyes.   
  


" Oliver!" 

The Italian accent made me smile. She was running to me, face shining with....what?.....ectasy? 

" Oliver, I thought I'd never see you again!" She leaped into my arms, caught me by surprise. " What on earth are you doing here?" 

" Student-teacher," I told the seventh year. I hugged her back, but didn't know why. 

How could I be happy enough to hug anyone just now? 

Jasmine pulled away from me and brushed a loose strand of jet black hair back in place. " Angelina's going to be happy to see you." 

My heart skipped a beat. " Angelina?" 

" And Katie and Fred and George and-" 

I put my hand over her mouth. " Where is Angelina?" 

A fluent motion with her head indicated the Chaser was in the Gryffindor Common Room. 

_Common Room. Perfect.___

_What was the password? Butter.....butterscotch? No.....butter.....nut?___

" She was writing to you all last year," Jasmine said hurridly, " but her owl couldn't find you. She was-" 

I nodded, looking towards the direction of the Common Room, trusting myself to remember where it was. " Thanks, Jazz." 

I took off at a jog before she answered. 

I had a really bad habit of doing that. 

The Fat Pink Lady......she was....to the right. Left. Up. No, not left. 

I was almost ready to yell in frusteration when she appeared in front of me. A sigh of relief escaped me as I trotted up to her and whispered, " Butter....butternut." 

" Only one 'butter', lad," the painting said. The Pink Lady was hiding behind a fan of cards. " You a new student?" 

" No, ma'am," I answered. I began to step in the passageway. 

" That voice, I _know_ that voice!" The Pink Lady threw her cards about her and rose, peering closely at me. " Oliver Wood! I haven't seen you in, what, two years?! What are you doing back?" Her cheeks were pink with excitement. " Here to rescue our Quidditch team, I'll bet, right?" 

I tensed, inhaled to calm myself, smiled. " No. I'm a student-teacher." 

" Oh. Dear me, we haven't had one of those since.....we've never had one of those. Hmm. I'm sure Dumbledor would have told me about it." She shrugged and smiled. " Continue you, captain." 

I nodded politely, saluted, and stepped in to the Gryffindor passage. It was all I could do to keep from crying. 

And I didn't know why I was on the verge of tears. I'd heard people talk about my success as Keeper and captain of the Gryffindor team and not once felt to shed a tear. Not once. Maybe, maybe it was because this was home. 

Home. People were familiar at home, memories lingered at home, memories haunted at home. 

" Damn," I whispered as my foot touched the red carpet that covered the Common Room floor. " Damn." 

Two familiar red heads were lounging in the huge armchairs. Each had a girl in his arms. Niether was Angelina. 

_Thank God.___

The one of the right, I think it was Fred, snored. I had to smile. 

_Just like 'em.___

I glanced around the rest of the Common Room. 

Empty. 

My heart sank. Maybe I had missed her. 

I bowed my head, began to walk back through the small passage, when something reached my ears. 

Laughter. 

" That was good, that was really good!" 

I knew that voice. I'd know it anywhere. 

_Angelina....___

" It was evil," she was saying, " but darned good!" She laughed. 

Her laugh was light and angelic. 

" Thank you, thank you." 

This voice I didn't recognize, but it sounded younger. 

Angelina laughed again. " I really can't believe you!" 

I looked up at the stairs leading up to the dormitories, where their voices were coming from. I could see a milky white hand on the railing. It was her hand, I could feel it in my gut. 

Her face was in view within seconds that seemed like hours. She was facing away from me, talking to another girl behind her. 

" Did Snape catch you?" she asked. 

" Nope," came the smug reply, as the other girl stepped into view. She was young, younger than I thought. " I think Peeves was watching, but what could he do? He's a nice ghost. He gave me dead flowers, did you know that?" 

" Amy....." Angelina shook her head. " What am I going to do with you?" 

Amy. 

Seemed to me I remembered that name. I just couldn't place my finger on it. 

My heart beat quickened until I was sure it would wake Fred and George. I clenched and unclenched my fists. 

_Good lord, what's she going to say?___

She still hadn't looked at me, even up from the younger girl she was talking to. Amy. 

I concentrated on breathing steadily. It wouldn't look too good if I squeaked when I finally spoke to her. 

" Hey Angel?" 

The laughter stopped. Amy was facing me, looking towards me. 

No. She was looking at me. 

_Here it comes.___

Angelina still had her back to me. 

" What?" the Chaser asked, running her fingers through her hair. 

Amy pointed at me. " Who's that?" 

I tensed, waited. 

She turned, slowly. Her face was the last thing that faced me. A look of pure shock plastered itself on her face as her eyes traveled up and down my body, finally resting on my face. 

_She's going into conniptions. What was I thinking?!___

A smile crept onto her bewildered face. " O-Oliver?" 

I didn't have to answer. 

Her mouth opened in surprise, shock gone from her face. Excitement flew to her eyes as she raced to me, arms open. I took her in a firm embrace, her momentum sending us spinning. Her arms wrapped around my neck, held me tightly. I felt her tears on my shoulder. 

" Where did you come from?" she asked, voice muffled by my Quidditch robes. 

" The pit?" I tried. 

She barked a laugh and squeezed me tighter. I lost what air I had left. 

" I can't believe you're here!" 

" Niether can I," I answered. 

She pulled away from me, perfect hair now all over the place. Tears were running down her cheeks, passing over her smiling face. " But....you graduated!" 

" I couldn't keep away from the school." I shrugged. 

" What are you doing here?" 

" Oh? Well, if you don't want me here, I can leave." I made to leave the Common Room but she grabbed me again. My face was aching from my smiles. 

" Have you come back to the team?" She stopped herself one word to late, all happiness gone from her features. " I....I didn't mean..." Her eyes fell on my scars and she took me by the neck again, sobbing. " I'm glad you came back." 

I rubbed her back gently. " I couldn't stay away from the team." 

" What do you mean by that?" 

" Well," I said through a sigh, " Hooch is getting a little old to be a flight instructor and Quidditch coach on her own. Dumbledor signed me on as a student-teacher." 

She didn't answer, only hugged me. By this time, I had tears running down my face, falling neatly into her hair. 

" It's about time." 

Angelina laughed. I groaned. 

" Really, it's been, like, years?" 

" Yes, Fred, I know," I told him. 

Angelina and I parted. Fred was standing, arms crossed, eyebrows dancing in amusement. 

" We were beginning to wonder, Wood, when you'd ever find someone," the red haired student remarked. 

" Hey," I said, pointing at him, " no smart alec shots at me, or I'll have to take points from Gryffindor." 

George sat up. " How? Where'd you get this super power?" 

" Now that's a secret," I told them, nodding importantly. " You're not obligated to know." 

Fred and George were silent, stunned. 

I smiled. 

" That was good, Ollie." George rose from the armchair, let his girl fall where he was sleeping. " Come on, tell us." 

" You wouldn't rule the school and not tell us about it, would you?" Fred asked. His eyes became big and young and pleading. 

" I would've let you in on the dough.......sometime." I bowed formally. " Say hello to the Quidditch student-teacher." 

Fred looked around the Common Room. " Where?" 

" You don't mean......Ollie, are you flying again?" George smiled slyly. " Yes! You're on the brooms and showing Hooch how to run the show!" He clapped his hands together in triumph. " Oh yeah, who's smart?" 

" I'm not flying." 

Both the twins fell silent again. No joke, this time. 

I opened my arms. " Hey, it's been a couple of years." I motioned for them to come and hug me. " A couple rough years, I need to be cheered up." 

" You got Angel, don't you?" Fred winked, then embraced me fiercely. He patted my back. " It's good to see you." 

" You're actually being serious about this?" I choked. 

Fred loosened his grip on me. He scratched his head, as if in thought. " Uh.....no." 

" Just checking." I turned to George. " Aren't you feeling left out?" 

He nodded with a big pout on his face. " No one loves me." 

I hugged him. " I wouldn't say I love you, but I'm glad to see you." 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Angelina standing, tears making her eyes sparkle.   
  


The stars had never looked so beautiful. They reflected off a glossy lake surface, bounced the wishes back and forth between each other. None of the wishes were mine. I'd stopped wishing a long time ago. 

Thunder erupted in the distance. Lightning lit the skies miles away, displays of deadly magic in the inky black. There was already a hoard of navy blue and black clouds beginning to cover the sky that looked over the school. The rain would fall soon, and I would be there when it did. 

I lived for the rain almost as much as I lived for the sky. Raining games had always been my favorite, though I usually spent a fortune dry-cleaning my robes afterwards. That never kept me from loving them. 

I leaned back on the slope that descended down into the lake. I felt a small fog of contentment wash over me, but it was thin. My eyes kept wandering to the Quidditch stadium, flags flying eye, illuminated by the approaching lightning. 

Harry was right, I couldn't keep away from the game. That was why I had come back to Hogwarts, why I had signed to be a Quidditch student-teacher. It was all a way to get close to the game without actually getting in the air. 

But I had to fly again. With every passing minute my urge to grab a broom and fly grew stronger. I managed to allow my fear pack it down. Storms corrupted inside of me, not different from the approaching storm. 

I stood, brushed grass from my robes. The stadium wasn't far. If I had the courage to try to fly now, I'd never get it again. I had to fly now, now, before lightning and thunder consumed Hogwarts. 

And me. 

The stadium loomed over me in the dark. The walk had from lake to stadium had never been shorter, but then, the hoops had I was looking up at had never been higher. I took in a deep breath, grabbed a broom as I walked through the locker room. It had to be now, while I had a rush of crazy, insane courage. 

I mounted the broom. My palms were sweaty, my hands slipped on the broom handle. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, prayed this would work. Prayed that this would cure me, should I get off the ground. 

With one final inhale, I kicked off the ground as the clouds shattered with a thunder clap and poured rain on me. I was soaked within seconds, but I was in the air. 

The air, it had never felt so good! I flew higher, my heart beating faster with every inch I climbed. Up to the hoops I had once guarded as the Gryffindor Keeper, the familiar home, the sanctuary I had in them. 

_I can't believe I was afraid to do this!___

I circled the hoops, then lapped the stadium. Thunder cried above me, lightning crashed and lit the stadium for split seconds at a time. 

Time. It almost stopped with I was in the air. The wind blew past me, pushed rain water from my face, made my eyes dry. I was squinting, depending on the lightning for my vision. 

I stopped in front of the goal posts, hovered. It had been here. Here was where it happened. He came at me, full force. I was cheering Alicia and Angelina.....they were so close to scoring! 

Then he hit me. 

_*flash*___

_" You're mine, Wood."___

_*flash*_ __

His hand grabbed the collar of my robes as I began to fall from my broom. He smirked, I remember that smirk perfectly. 

I saw my reflection in his eyes. 

_*flash*___

_I clung to my broom. Struggled to keep from falling.___

_Flint's hand took my collar.___

_" It's time you lost."___

_*flash*_

He flung me with everything in his body. I hit one of the posts, head first. 

Fell to the ground. 

_*flash*___

_Every bone in my body ached with impact.___

_I heard my neck snap.___

_I fell, fast, but it took so long.___

_So long to fall fifty feet.___

_*flash*_ __

I closed my eyes. It was a living nightmare, a living nightmare! I screamed, opened my eyes. A flash of bright light jumped in front of me. I swayed on my broom, blinded. 

Heat. The rain was cold, and I felt heat. Hotter than anything I had ever felt. 

It hit. My back burned, I straightened on my broom. Lost my balance. 

The world swirled around me. I was hot, so hot. I was burning, burning like fire. 

I hit the ground, curled into a writhing ball. Surges of new, non-native energy rushed through me, through every vein and nerve in my body. I couldn't breathe, my chest hurt with every movement I made. 

The rain poured on me, the world around me was dancing and out of focus, light was in my eyes, always in my eyes. I was choking on dirt, rain, my own air. I was trying to scream in an agony that surrounded me and bound me, found I couldn't make a noise. 

I felt myself slipping, the world darkened. There was no rain on me, there was only the pain and heat and energy. 

I wanted to die.   
  
  


A/N: A cruel place to leave you hang, I know. Oh, there will be a little sweet stuff between Angelina and Oliver, for future reference, but romance is not one of the categories this story is under. I will explain who Amy is, and what just happened will all clear up. Remember, this is from his POV, he doesn't know what happened, so we don't. *evil grin* Check ya in a chapter. 


	4. Birds Don't Fly In The Rain

A/N: It's here, after a few days of hard thinking and dreaming and writing and rewriting. Aren't you happy? This one is narrated by Angelina (so there's going to be more romance in this than I thought, but I'll try not to overdo it) and, well, vague, as always. 

No one belongs to me. It all belongs to the godess Rowling. Thank you very much.   


**~Broken Wings~**   
***Birds Don't Fly In The Rain***   
****

  


I saw him. He never moved from the front of the lake. I could see the clouds approaching quickly, but he didn't budge. 

He loved the rain. I could see it in his eyes every time the clouds let loose. He spent hours flying in the rain, storm or not, just to be up there. Many birds don't fly in the rain, but he always did. 

Then, late at night, he'd come in, soaked to the bone but smiling, eyes shining like the stars that sparkled on the water. He almost never got cold in the water, and while the rest of us froze on broomstick, his face would be red with exileration and delight. 

So it didn't surprise me that he didn't move from his position as the storm crept closer. 

" Angel?" 

I heard Amy step into the my dorm. 

" Angel, that guy....." 

I sighed. " That was Oliver Wood, Amy." 

She sat on my bed. " I know who he was, I asked him to help me do a spiral." Her eyes lowered to the tattered blue bunny in her arms. She stroked the worn fabric lovingly. " How do you know him?" 

" We were on the same Quidditch team." I looked away from the window, from Oliver, to face my little sister. 

She fiddled with the bunny's ears. " Wh.....why won't he fly?" 

I felt every muscle in me tense. 

_Amy....why? Why?___

" He's afraid," I answered cooly. I felt my blood begin to boil. 

" Of what?" 

I clenched and unclenched my fists. " He....he was thrown from his broom.....two years back....." 

She was silent a few moments, to let me restrain myself, before asking, " Do you love him?" 

The question made my heart stop. 

_Do I love him?___

_How can you be so niave?___

" I....." I was at loss for words. No one had asked me anything like that before. " I......guess...." My voice failed me, and I had to nod. 

She watched me with big brown eyes, eyes like mine. She rose slowly, kissed me on the cheek. " Good night," she whispered. 

I nodded in response, looked back out thorugh the winodow. Back at Oliver. 

He wasn't there. 

I tensed, grabbed my bedspread. I had been expecting him to remain by the lake throughout the storm. 

But then again, the accident had changed him. Maybe he wasn't the same. 

I fell asleep in my robes, and I dreamed of him.   
  


" Angelina? Angelina?" 

I groaned and rolled over. 

" Geez, girl, what happened to your pajamas?" I could almost see George's smirk through the dark. 

" George." I closed my eyes again. " What time is it?" 

" Four." He grabbed the sleeve of my robe. " The captain's back, and if we slack on the training program, the headlines'll be talking about seven Hogwarts students who were all turned into rodents." 

At the mention of Oliver, I opened my eyes. 

" So up and at 'em, Angel." Someone threw my Quidditch robes at me. I guessed it was Fred. 

" Has it stopped raining?" I asked, stepping out of bed. 

Fred peered out the window. " No. But what else is new? It's always raining when we practice." 

_Because Oliver loved the rain.___

I yawned. I couldn't believe I was once used to getting up this early to practice. 

George grabbed the sleeve of my robes and pulled me through the castle. I stumbled along behind him, followed by Harry and Katie, who had also apparently slept in. 

I was awake once I stepped outside, though. The rain was cool, the wind harsh and cold. I rubbed my arms. This was Oliver's typical Quidditch weather. Had he still been flying, he would've been on his broom since midnight, flying through the rain. 

I pulled away from George. " I'm awake, Weasley, I can walk by myself." 

I received no answer. 

I rubbed my arms again. How could Oliver love this kind of weather? It made my bones shiver and I was certain my lips were blue. 

The walk from the castle to the stadium was a long one. Someone was holding onto my robes to keep from losing me in the rain. I was holding onto George's robes. 

Relief flooded over me as, eventually, we stepped into the locker room. Alicia and Jasmine were already there, changing into their Quidditch robes. Harry was already in his, and he lay down on one of the benches, obviously taking advantage of our slow changing time to take a nap. 

I envied him. 

" Come on, Wood would've had you on the field by now!" Jasmine snapped at us. She clapped her hands. 

She was a good captain, there was no denying that, but she didn't seem......quite so into the game. Quidditch had been Oliver's life, it was what he lived for. 

I've often wondered if there was room in his heart for something more. 

Like me. 

I pulled on my Quidditch sweater and slid into my scarlet robes. They were cold and soaked, and I would've gladly traded them for the dry robes I had in my locker, but those were being saved until after practice. 

" On the field! Harry, wake up!" Jasmine grabbed her broom and shook Harry's shoulder. Harry rolled off the bench, groaned. 

" I thought when we got rid of Wood, we got rid of this," he mumbled, rising and grabbing his broom. 

" I think Wood's writing Jasmine," Fred said. 

" Telling her how to run us," added George. 

They, too, grabbed their brooms, only to drop them when we heard a scream. 

A shiver ran down my spine. 

Alicia ran into the locker room from the field, a look of pure horror etched upon her face. Her eyes were welling with tears, but it could have been rain water, I didn't know. 

" Alicia?" Jasmine took the Chaser by her heaving shoulders. " Alicia, calm down!" 

" Let her breathe, Jazz," I told our captain. I took Alicia's hands and led her to a bench, helped her sit down. " What's wrong?" I asked softly. 

" W...Wood," she panted. A sob hitched out her chest and I realized they were tears in her eyes. 

My heart tightened, twisted. 

" He's...." She swallowed. "....Out...o-on the fie-field...." She was shaking violently now. 

I looked at Fred and George. " Go look," I ordered them. 

There was no protest from them. That alone made me shiver. 

" What about Wood?" I asked Alicia. I crouched so I was eye level with her. 

" On th-the g-ground," she whispered. " He.....a br-broom w-was next t-to him...." 

_Dear God, no.___

" Is he okay?" I asked hurridly. I took her shoulders in my hands, perhaps a little too tightly. 

She looked at me with her green eyes and broke down. I let her fall into me, let her sob on my shoulder. 

" Harry, you've lived with Muggles your entire life, right?" Fred asked, suddenly back in the locker room. 

" Yes," Harry answered. 

" Mind....." Fred stopped, then said, " Give us a hand, here." 

Harry obeyed. 

Alicia sat up in my arms. 

" Alicia, was Oliver okay?" Katie asked over my shoulder. 

Alicia shook her head and brushed her hair from her face. " N-no." 

I could feel my heart breaking inside me. I sat back, let go of Alicia. I was numb, numb all over. Sounds droned out, I saw nothing in front of me. 

Oliver...... 

What had he done? 

" Angelina?" 

Someone was shaking me. 

_Oliver.....___

" Angelina?" 

I shook my head, looked up. " What?" 

" You okay?" Katie asked. 

I didn't have a chance to answer. Fred and George entered, carrying a limp Oliver Wood between them. 

The tears were falling from my eyes within an instant. I reached for Oliver. Two hands grabbed my elbows to hold me back. 

" Oliver!" I screamed. 

The Weasleys laid him on one of the benches. Harry followed them, carrying a charred broomstick. His face was grave. 

" Oliver!" I struggled, pulled away from whoever was holding me. I dove for Oliver, kneeled next to his body. My tears dripped onto his face, ran down his cheeks as if they were his own tears. 

" Wh-what happened?" I whispered, taking one of his cold hands in my own. 

Silence. 

_Oliver, what.....what did you do?___

Harry kneeled next to me. He put two fingers to Oliver's throat. Waited. 

_Oliver....no....not you!___

" He's still alive," Harry said, his voice choked. " Or....at least, his heart's beating." He looked at me. " Let me look at him," he said softly. 

I was forced to move away. Dropped Oliver's hand. 

It fell limply and hung from the bench. 

As if he was dead. 

_Oliver.....___

Harry leaned close to Oliver, put his ear next to his face. " No breath," he told us. 

My heart shattered right there. 

He was gone, there was no other explaination. 

" Oliver!" 

I made for him again, but two strong hands grabbed me. 

" Let Harry deal with him!" hissed Fred's voice. 

I slumped in his arms, sobbing harder than I ever believed possible. 

_I loved you....___

_I still do.___

Harry pulled Oliver from the bench, laid him gently on the ground. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then tilted Oliver's head back, leaning close again. Without a word, he plugged Oliver's nose with two fingers and put his mouth on the nineteen-year-old's. He blew, and Oliver's chest rose. Harry pulled away, unplugged the nose, let Oliver exhale. Then he blew more air into him, nose plugged, head tilted back. 

" What's he doing?" I whispered through long, shaky breaths. 

No answer. 

Harry pressed his fingers to Oliver's throat again, then tilted his head back and blew more air into him. Oliver's chest rose again, and he exhaled with a cough. 

My hopes began to rise. I grabbed Fred's hands, dug my nails into his skin. He didn't flinch. 

Harry waited a few seconds, then blew more air into Oliver. The former captain coughed again, for a few seconds this time. 

I dug my nails deeper into Fred as I watched Harry perform a miracle right before my eyes. He was breathing life into Oliver Wood. 

Harry blew one last time, then felt Oliver's throat again. 

" Harry?" George asked. 

" He's still alive," Harry said, voice hoarse. 

Oliver coughed again. 

" And breathing on his own," Harry added. 

Oliver began to twitch. He coughed again, then began to writhe. 

I gripped Fred even harder. And he still didn't flinch. 

Harry placed his arm under Wood's writhing body, slowly lifted him into a sitting position. Oliver coughed again. His chest was heaving between coughs, and his face was now etched with pain. 

" Easy," Harry soothed. " Easy, you're all right." He leaned Oliver against the bench. 

Oliver's coughing ceased, allowing him to breathe, or try to. He was gasping for every breath, and his muscles kept twitching uncontrollably. 

" Oliver? Can you hear me?" Harry asked. " Oliver?" 

Oliver's eyes opened slowly. They fell on Harry. He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but coughed, writhed, and gasped sharply in pain. 

Fred let me go. 

I crawled slowly towards Oliver, sobs silent, tears still running down my face. 

" He'll be all right," Harry told me. He looked over his shoulder. " Someone go get Madame Pomphrey."   
  
" What happened?" I whispered, taking Oliver's hand again. It twitched, then weakly squeezed my own. 

" Hard to say," Harry answered, turning back to Oliver, " but from what it looks like.....I think he was struck." 

" What?" My fingers rubbed Wood's softly. 

" Struck. You know, but lightning." Harry put his hand on Oliver's shoulder, rubbed it. " It was a hard strike, from the looks of it." He eyed me carefully. " I think he was in the air when he was hit." 

My breath caught in my throat. 

_Oliver.....what were you thinking?!___

Oliver's eyes opened slowly again. This time they watched me. 

No. One watched me. 

He was still blind in one eye. 

Oh Oliver..... 

The tears didn't cease to fall from my eyes. I guess they were falling from Harry's, too, because his eyes were bloodshot. 

Oliver's breathing had slowed, but his fingers still twitched in my hand. His eyes locked with mine. I felt my heart start beating again. 

I was vaguely aware of voices speaking around me. I only watched Oliver, watched him close his eyes, close those brilliantly blue eyes. Even that small action was weak, as weak as he was, sitting helpless. 

I reached up with one finger, stroked his cheek, brushed my hand over his forehead, over the scars that once kept him from flying. The sounds around me, they were there, but I could barely hear them. There was only Oliver's breathing, my heart beating..... 

I brought my face close to his, studied his features. So perfect, he was built to be Keeper. His cheekbones were strong, though his jaw was slightly dislocated. Water dampened his face, rain water that kept the bird on the ground. Time slowed as I leaned close to him, brushed my lips against his. It was light, but I could taste his lips. I doubt he felt it, doubt he was awake to know, but I brushed my lips over his again. He remained still, silent. 

My fingers stroked his face as I pulled away from him. His hand dropped from mine as someone pulled me to my feet. I think it was Fred. 

I watched as Proffessor Snape and Nathan Riley, the Gryffindor Prefect, lifted Wood with their hands. He was too fragile for magic. They set him on a stretcher, carried him away slowly. McGonagall shielded him from the rain with a large umbrella, and Madame Hooch grabbed the broom Harry had brought in. 

My eyes never left Oliver Wood. It was only when he was carried outside that I closed my eyes and started crying all over again. He was carried into a sunlight I hadn't realized was there.   
  


A/N: Yesh, more romance here, and I know some of you people are looking for a romance-free Wood story, but I had to put this in. Perhaps in my next Wood fic there'll be no romance. Now, this was narrated by Angelina because I needed someone who was close to Wood, someone who, preferably, loved him. I was originally going to use Harry and get the mad boy's POV for this chapter, but decided against it, because we've seen enough to Harry's anger and tears from his POV, and this just needed someone close to Wood. I'm planning on Angelina narrating the next chapter for the same reason, then perhaps Harry after that. Oi, this is getting longer than I ever intended. Oh, if the writing's sucky, I'm writing this at ten, and with getting up early for school, I'm pretty tired and out of it. Typos and whatnot are result of that. I'm usually a very careful typer. Oh, I know Sean Biggerstaff (Wood in the movie) has brown eyes, but I adore blue eyes and had to put them in here. *shrugs* Dunno why. I'll have just about everything according to Sean in the next fic, I promise. 


	5. With One Breath, Silence Your Pain

A/N: The next chapter. This chapter is just recovery from the disaster that happened earlier. Still narrated by Angelina, and all that good stuff. 

I just saw the movie for the second time. Don't forget to read in a British accent (for the non-British readers)! ^_^ Naw, you don't have to. At least try to read what Oliver says in Sean's Scottish accent. It's.....*faints* 

Nothin' belongs to me, save a few original characters, like Jasmine, and now, Anthony Grigg, and maybe a few more. *bows to Rowling* *then kisses Oliver* ^_^ Oh, the song in here is mine, too.   


**NOTE:** This _is_ a rewrite, I guess. Yes, I actually agree with a lot of you. The Angelina/Oliver romance doesn't work with this story. So....I made it one-sided. Angelina has feelings for Oliver, yet Oli only knows her as a good, dear friend. ^_^   
  
  


**~Broken Wings~**   
***With One Breath, Silence Your Pain***

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was like he was dead. Gone, gone from us, from me. Not seeing him between classes, that was normal. I'd grown used to it. But seeing him in the hospital wing, day after day, and each day just the same as last.... 

Jasmine put our Quidditch practices to a halt. Harry said Madame Hooch cut her classes short because of Oliver's absence. Each day was clouded over, dark, raining. Still raining. Like it was that day. 

I sat next to him. Each day more color returned to his face, but he never opened his eyes. Never showed another sign of life. 

" Millions of Muggles are struck by lightning," Harry told me repeatedly, " and most of them live." 

Jasmine would sometimes sit with me, helping me keep his temperature, and grabbed cool rags to keep it down. There was always a Muggle born student in the room, teaching us Muggle medicine techniques. Oliver was still too weak for magic treatment. 

A Muggle born student, Anthony Grigg, tapped my shoulder, handed me a cold, damp rag. 

" On the forehead," he reminded me. 

I nodded, took the rag in my hands. Anthony removed the rag that was on Oliver's forehead now. I brushed the back of my hand over his cheeks, his brow. His skin was warm, cooler than it had been, but warmer than it should be. The fever had gone down. 

I placed the rag on his damp forehead. His eyes twitched. 

" How is he?" Harry appeared along side me. 

I swallowed. " Better." 

He sat next to Wood, adjusted the rag. " The....the last thing I said to him...." His voice cracked. " I called....I called him a damned liar...." Two tears slipped from his emerald eyes. 

I smiled ruefully, grabbed his hand. " You breathed life into him." He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. " That's the most amazing thing I've ever seen." 

" Let's hope life stays," he whispered. " He has to live." 

Of course he did. He had to live, because of us. Because of me. 

I ran my hand over Oliver's closed eyes. They twitched, and a small drop of water from the rag hit my hand. 

" You love him." Harry sounded so sure, so right. 

I looked at the fifth year. " Everybody does." 

" Yes," he agreed, " but not like you." 

I shivered, didn't know why, turned back to Oliver. 

" It's late, Angelina." Harry rose, offered me his hand. " I'll stay with him." 

I took one last glance at Oliver, then allowed Harry to pull me away. Anthony Grigg appeared, handed Harry another cool rag. 

" I can take her back," he offered. 

Harry accepted his offer for me. " Sleep, Angelina," he told me. " I'll wake you if anything happens." 

I nodded slowly, followed Anthony to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

" Will he live?" I asked the sixth year. 

" He's a fighter," Anthony answered. " I don't see why not." He brushed locks of black hair from his eyes. " We're doing all we can. It's up to him to pull through." 

I accepted that answer. It was the closest I'd ever get to a yes. 

" Butternut," Anthony whispered. I heard the painting swing asaid. Anthony led me into the Common Room. 

" How is he?" Fred asked. 

I think it was Fred. 

" Recovering," Anthony answered for me. I was grateful. I knew I would cry should I try to speak. 

" Is he good? Bad?" Fred waited for Anthony to answer again. 

Anthony sighed. " I need to get her in bed." 

Fred nodded simply, oddly quiet. He sat down, eyes staring into the fire. I had never seen him so quiet, so solemn. 

Maybe he cared for Oliver as much as I did. 

I put my hand on his arm, tried to say something, found I couldn't. 

Anthony took me by the arm. " Angelina..." he whispered. 

I sniffed, then allowed Anthony to pull me up to my dorm. He ushered me inside, helped me into bed. 

" Harry and I will be with him all night," he said reassuringly. " If he wakes, we'll let you know. Sleep now." 

" Thanks," I muttered, as he pulled my quilt over me. I clutched my pillow tightly. Tears rolled down my cheeks.   
  


Someone was shaking me. I groaned. 

" Angelina, wake up," I heard Jasmine whisper. " Harry wants you, down in the hospital wing." 

I opened my eyes suddenly. " Harry?" My voice was choked. 

" It's Oliver." She pulled the quilt away from me, and cold air rushed to meet me. 

I didn't care. 

" What's wrong?" I asked, climbing out of bed and following Jasmine out of our dorm. 

" Nothing," she answered. She wiped tears from her eyes. 

Everyone seemed to be crying these days. 

We said nothing more, only ran down the shifting stairs faster than I had ever run in my life. Even at our speed, the trip seemed longer than it ever had been. 

Harry was bent over Oliver's bed when we arrived. Anthony was talking with Dumbledor, along with a seventh year, a kid named Benjamin, who answered to B.J. They were gesturing towards Oliver, but I didn't take the time to listen. 

My attention was focused on Oliver. 

Harry was holding his wrists firmly as the student-teacher shifted and groaned. Soft whispers flew out of Harry's mouth, whispers of encouragement. He didn't look up when Jasmine and I appeared next to him, breathing hard. 

" What's wrong?" I hissed. 

Harry shook his head. " Nothing.....I think...." 

" You think?" Jasmine asked, peering over my shoulder. 

" He's just waking up," Harry answered. 

Oliver coughed. 

" It won't be long," I head B.J. say from behind me. He moved to the other side of the bed. " Clear back, give him some air." 

Harry's grip on Oliver's wrist tightened. 

I held my breath. This was all too wonderful, too wonderful to actually be real. 

He would live. 

Oliver took in a deep breath, coughed again, roughly. 

" Here." Harry probbed me with an elbow, handed me Oliver's hands. " It's only the right thing." 

I smiled at him as I took Oliver's cold hands in my own. His fingers twitched at my touch, I squeezed softly, fingers gently rubbing his knuckles. I whispered his name over and over again, in a sort of chant. 

He groaned, tried to shift his weight. 

" Grab his shoulders!" Anthony ordered. 

Harry took one shoulder, held it tight. B.J. took the other. Oliver began to struggle at being restrained. 

" Talk to him," Anthony told me. 

Talk to him? What would I say? 

I took a deep breath. " Oliver, calm down....it's all right, I'm here." I brought one of his twitching hands to my quivering lips. " Relax, it's okay," I whispered. 

His struggle intensified, he started to groan. 

" Keep still," I heard Jasmine mutter in melody. I turned my eyes on her. She was singing. " With one breath, silence your pain...." 

I knew that song. My mother, before she died.....she used to sing that to me. 

" Drift away, come back someday." My own voice was shaking, my lips trembled. 

_Mum.....Oliver...._

" Follow streams 'round the stars, keep me forever in your heart, and with one breath, silence your pain." 

Jasmine smiled at me. " Come back to me some day." 

_Keep still...._

Oliver coughed and his groans ceased. 

_......with one breath....._

His fingers lightly squeezed mine. 

_.....silence your pain....._

Two tears slipped out of Harry's eyes, dripped onto Oliver's face. 

_.....drift away...._

The tears rolled down Oliver's cheeks, slipped onto the bedspread. 

_.....come back someday....._

His chest rose forcefully. 

_....and with wings of silver...._

B.J. released his hold on Oliver's shoulder. Harry followed suit. 

_.....raise above and pray...._

Anthony swept his hand over Oliver's brow. 

_....sing a song....._

" His temperature's down," Anthony mumbled. 

_....of pleasure's day...._

Oliver's breathing slowed. 

_....remember the angels...._

" Is he....." Harry stopped with a choke. 

_....we used to watch...._

Anthony shook his head. " I don't know." 

_....follow streams 'round the stars...._

Oliver's fingers sqeezed my hand again. 

_....keep me forever in your heart...._

My heart leaped. 

_....and with one breath...._

" Come on, Oliver," Dumbledor whispered from behind me. 

_....silence your pain...._

Oliver's eyes twitched, opened slowly. They wandered around the room slowly, one in a haze. 

_....and with one breath...._

His eyes rested on me, a smile spread slowly across his lips. 

" I flew," he whispered. 

I laughed, flung my body over him, sobbed into his shoulder. 

" You're an idiot," I told him, voice muffled by his blanket. 

" I flew," he whispered.   
  
  


A/N: I tried to think of a better chapter ending - this one was utterly mushy, and a little rushed - but my mind's blank. 


	6. Faith and Fear

A/N: Well, now I'm continuing. Happy? *nods* 'Course you all are. Because I say so. *laughs wickedly* 

Narrated by Oliver. ^_^ 

Well, I revised this chapter. The romance is.....shall we say, almost gone from this story? There's some in previous chapters (of course) but this is a Drama/Angst. And I like the friendship between Oliver and Harry. ^_^ 

Another disclaimer? None of this is mine, save Anthony, Jasmine, and B.J. Okies? I'm gonna get soooo sick of these....   


  


**~Broken Wings~**   
***Faith and Fear***

  
  


" It's good to see you back, Oliver." Madame Hooch's voice was brisk, as it always was, but I could find the relief in her words. " I'm going to put you with the first years - a few of the older kids are acting up - and I think a bunch of eleven-year-olds won't be too hard for you...." She eyed my closely. " Unless, of course, you'd like to take some time off." There was a long pause as she tenderly removed a chip from her broom. " How's your back?" 

I smiled. " Fine." I was getting tired of giving out the polite response of, " I'm doing much better, thank you." 

" Will you be in the air anytime?" Her question was more of a wish. 

" I can't say," I answered, reaching for one of the brooms. " I can't believe I was ever afraid to fly." 

She nodded sympathetically. " Yes, an accident like that can really manipulate you." 

I didn't say anything, turned the broom over in my hands, laughed lightly. " Where'd you get the money for these?" 

" Donations." A broad grin crept onto her face. " Aren't they beautiful?" 

" Nimbus 2000's," I breathed. " They're not much compared to the Firebolt, but it's better than we've ever had." I set the broom back down. " I just wish I could get on one." 

Hooch's hand fell on my shoulder. " You will. Someday."   
  


The jumble of first years looked more like a bunch of monkeys than students. I sighed heavily, smiled inwardly, and approached them. 

" Calm down!" I shouted firmly. Maybe I had a little bit of the Quidditch captain in me. 

A small clump of girls began to giggle helplessly as I stopped in front of the class. A few of the students were watching me with intent, almost worried eyes. And then there were the boys, who seemed oblivious to my presence. 

" I said, calm down!" I roared. The boys stopped at my sudden outburst. 

_So, this is being the teacher._

I smiled at the group of now terrified faces. " I'm Oliver Wood-" 

" We know," a girl said. 

I looked at her, and her cheeks grew a deep red. " I'm sure you do." I straightened, eyed the entire class. " Now, we're here to fly. I don't want any rough behavior of any sort." I took in a deep breath. " How far has Hooch taken you?" 

A boy raised his hand. " We were studying the positions of Quidditch." 

A knot began to form in my stomach. " What have you been taught?" 

" We worked through the Chasing position," a red-head answered. I watched him a moment; he looked awfully like a Weasley. 

_No, Ginny's the last Weasley._

" We were going to study Keeper," a girl spoke up. 

The knot in my stomach tied itself tight. " Keeper....Keeper is....it's one of the most important positions..." I started. 

" Professor Wood? Weren't you Keeper for Gryffindor?" a boy asked. 

The knot grew. I felt like I was going to throw up. " Yes. A long time ago, yes I was." 

" Is it hard?" 

" Is it true they're a target for Beaters?" 

" Are you allowed to leave the goal posts?" 

" Have you ever been hit with a Quaffle?" 

I held my hands up. " One at a time!" 

The class fell silent. 

With a sigh, I pointed to one of the girls. " You had a question?" 

She nodded. " Is Keeper the easiest position?" 

I laughed. " No." 

A boy raised his hand. I pointed to him. " Are Keepers really a target?" 

" Yes. A Keeper can be attacked to allow a team member to score, but only if the Quaffle is within the scoring area." I winced. " Attacking a Keeper isn't a penalty when the Quaffle is in the scoring area. Though it is outlawed that not all three Chasers can be in the scoring area, the one Chaser may ram the Keeper and then score. But when all three Chasers are in the scoring area, and two are intent on raming the Keeper, this is called stooging." 

" Have you ever been attacked, sir?" a boy asked. 

The knot tightened. I swallowed. " More times than I can count." 

" Have you ever witnessed stooging?" 

I paused. Flashes of that game, two years ago...... 

_*flash*_

_" You're mine, Wood."_

_*flash*_

  
  


" Yes, unfortunately, I have. Head on." 

" Sir? Is that how.....you got.....?" 

I nodded slowly. " It is." 

" Can the Keeper leave the scoring area?" a girl asked. 

I nodded. " As often as they like, but a Keeper is advised to stay in the scoring area to guard the baskets." I began to pace, an old habit of mine. " In fact, before the scoring area was added, Keepers often acted as Chasers, but with an extra responsibility: guarding the goal." 

" Did you ever leave the scoring area?" 

This felt like an interview. " Yes, I have." 

" Have you ever been hit with a Quaffle?" 

" Many times. I tend to hit the Quaffle more than it hits me, though." 

" Do Keepers have penalties?" 

I laughed. I knew the answer too well. " Yes, very many, but the main one is called flacking. This is when the Keeper puts any part of his body through the goal posts to punch the Quaffle out." 

" Have you ever done that?" 

" I'll admit to it. Yes, I have." 

" What are the penalty shots?" 

" A Keeper is the most important player when it comes to penalty shooting. It's a shot from an opposing Chaser at the goal, and the only thing between them and scoring is the Keeper." 

" Have you ever missed a penalty?" 

I nodded. " Countless times." I laughed. 

" Is it embarassing?" 

I shrugged. " It can be, depending on the Chaser taking the penalty." I inhaled deeply, clasped my hands together. " All right, I'm going to take you to the pitch, and you're going to practice the Keeper in the air." 

" Will you fly, Professor?" 

The knot spread to my chest uncomfortably. I glanced at one of the spare brooms. " I might."   
  


I sank into one of the couches in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermoine and Ron sat at the other end, playing chess. Fred and George were huddled in a corner, toying with something. I guessed I didn't want to know what. 

My eyes lingered on the fire. It looked so much like the fire I had seen not so long ago, when I finally took to the air. 

" Oliver?" A hand rested on my shoulder. 

" I'm not meant for the air," I muttered. 

Harry sat next to me. " That's ruddy bullshit and you know it." 

" I couldn't get into the air today," I told him. 

" It's going to be hard." 

I punched the couch beneath me. " This hard? Does it have to be this hard?" I leaned forward, put my head in my hands. " I can't believe I can't do it." 

Harry's hand touched my back. 

I flinched roughly. " Don't." 

He took his hand away. 

" It still burns." 

There was a long, droning silence. I could feel Harry's eyes on me, they were always on me. 

His voice interupted the silence. " You know the Prides are taking a trip to America this year?" 

I nodded. " Yeah. To play the Fitchburg Finches." 

" I think I'm going for the Prides someday." 

I looked up at him. 

He smiled. " It's a dream." A pause took hold of him, then he asked slowly, " The Pride's Keeper isn't the best..... 

My weary laugh startled me as well as him. " No, Potter. I can't Keep. Blind, remember?" 

" In one eye. McCormack looks as if she can't see at all." He sighed. " We all know you can outdo that Meaghan McCormack any day." 

" She's a good Keeper," I protested. " I'd end up on reserve." 

" You're a good Keeper," he answered. " She'll end up on reserve." 

I looked back at the fire. " I'd never make it. Pride of Portree wouldn't take a blind Keeper." 

" Do they have to know you're blind?" 

Shocked, I faced him again. 

He smiled broadly. " You're as good a Keeper now as you ever were. It's not wanting to get back on a broom that's making you a failure." 

" It's not that I don't want to get on a broom again.....I want it more than anything....but....I can't...." 

" Shut up, Oliver Wood! Where's the captain that drilled it into our brains that we couldn't walk away from Quidditch, no matter the defeat?" 

I sighed heavily. 

" We'll go for the Prides someday, Wood. Then we'll really show them how to whip the Fitchburg Finches!" 

His fantasy sounded so wonderful, like the happy ending to a book I'd never read. 

But maybe it was real.   
  


A/N: Corny ending to a chapter, and I know it's a little short. I've got an annoying thing called writer's block, and it's really hurting, so please bear with me! 


End file.
